We All Deserve To Die
by Depp's-Still-Doll
Summary: Of the scum inhabiting London, Mr. Lamonte is one of the worst, cycling through women with no end in sight. He gets his comeuppance when he crosses paths with our favorite barber, Sweeney Todd. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. WARNING: Extremely graphic violence, some mild sexual content
1. Chapter 1

Mr. Lamonte fastened his trousers after a romp with his mistress. Shirtless, his muscles rippled with every movement, despite him being in his mid thirties. He bent over the bed, where the young woman was panting, and kissed her. "I'll see you tomorrow."

He put on his shirt, tucked it in and straightened his collar. He checked himself in her vanity mirror. His large forehead glistened with sweat, and his long, thinning hair was wild. He picked up her comb and slicked it back into place, securing his stringy mane with a band. He stroked his beard, which he swore had more hair than his head. He was getting scruffy.

He walked out without another word to the woman swooning on the bed, grabbing his coat and top hat at the door. He put them on outside, smiling his charming smile to all who passed. He made his way down Fleet Street past St. Dunstan's church.

A pole caught his eye, just above a meat pie shoppe. The swirling stark white and bright crimson called to him. He stopped in his tracks on his way home to Cary Street. He stroked his beard in thought. He could use a shave.

Mr. Lamonte ascended the stairs, already planning the lie to his wife at home. "Things ran late at the press and the barber who shaved me took forever, one hair at a time!" When they had met, mere months before, he had thought she was finally the one. Years of womanizing were over because she was the one who kept him calm. The girlfriend before her was a fiery shrew that only worsened his temper. He had cheated on her with his now-wife, but now even she left a sour taste in his mouth. Did all women nag so much?

A bell tinkled hello as he stepped inside the barber shoppe. A ghostly pale man with wild dark hair turned to Mr. Lamonte and bowed. "Good evening. How can I help you?"

"Just a shave, please," he replied, removing his hat and coat.

"Of course. Sit, sir."

The barber unsettled Mr. Lamonte, but he obeyed. "Are you new in town?"

"Been back about a month," the barber replied, stirring up a lather.

"Back? You're from here? What's your name? Perhaps we've met before."

The barber's eyes darkened. "Todd. Sweeney Todd. I've been away for a very long time."

Mr. Lamonte thought that perhaps he didn't want to know this strange man. There was something not right about him.

"What's your name, sir?" he asked, applying the lather to his cheeks.

"Thomas Lamonte," he replied, trying to catch a glimpse of the barber's hands as they darted about his face. Clouds of lather obscured his peripheral vision. "Sir, may I ask, are you married?"

Mr. Todd froze. He stood as still as a statue for a long moment, to the point that Mr. Lamonte almost got up to leave. He finally replied, "I was married once."

Mr. Lamonte threw up his left hand. "Then you know what it's like! Tell me, is every woman in the world so irritating?"

Mr. Todd grabbed his silver razor. "Whatever do you mean?"

"Always in your business, won't stop bloody talking, don't do what they're told."

Mr. Todd pressed the razor to his neck, thinking about the chatty baker downstairs. He glided the razor up. "Some are."

"There are some that are not?"

The barber continued his work, thinking of his late wife, Lucy. She had been pure and perfect, with sunshine in her hair and eyes as blue as a rare clear sky. She had been the kindest person he had ever met and loved him with her whole heart.

"The world is full of mostly shit," the barber said. "But there are a few angels among us. Hard to find, especially with the vermin of the world killing every light they find." He managed to keep his hand steady, ignoring the building rage. This man had a family.

"I hope to find an angel of my own, then," Mr. Lamonte said. "If you say they exist, I won't stop until I find my perfect woman."

"But you said you already have a wife," the barber pointed out, offering him a towel for the excess lather.

Mr. Lamonte wiped his face. "You said you were married 'once.' Not anymore?"

"My wife was taken from me and is now dead," Mr. Todd clarified, an edge to his voice.

"Hmm," he said, handing back the towel. "Perhaps I can arrange the same for mine." He smirked, feeling his cheeks. "Smooth as a baby's arse. Well done. You have aftershave, I assume? Don't want to smell ripe when I come home."

Even the murderous Sweeney Todd was astounded at Mr. Lamonte's flippant tone. He couldn't possibly be serious. He grabbed his scented oil and rubbed it on his cheeks.

When Mr. Lamonte was satisfied, he paid him and said, "I'll surely be doing business here from now on."

"Thank you for your patronage," Mr. Todd muttered.

Mr. Lamonte left with another chime of the bell. Mr. Todd cleaned up his station. As he sharpened the razor for the next customer, he heard Mrs. Lovett running up the stairs.

"Mr. T! Mr. T! That man- Who was he?"

He didn't even look up or pause in his work. "What are you on about?"

"That man you just shaved. Did you get his name?"

"Lamonte, I believe."

"That's him," a small voice said.

Sweeney Todd finally looked up and saw Mrs. Lovett standing next to a girl. She was pale and thin, with dark circles under her eyes and long unkempt dark hair.

"What's she doing here?"

Mrs. Lovett put an arm around the girl. "This is Catharine. She saw that man going up the stairs and started bawling into her meat pie. You know me, couldn't have that. I tried to console her. She told me terrible things about that man. Made my skin crawl, and that's saying something. I thought maybe we could help her."

"Help her how?"

Mrs. Lovett gave him a knowing look.

_Hello, my lovely readers! I'm coming back to the Sweeney Todd universe to purge some things. This project was actually advised to me for therapy purposes. So I can properly channel my feelings, specifically hatred to a certain someone, I'm going to give him over to our favorite serial killer for some fun! Don't take this too seriously, just me getting a lot off my chest. But if you do enjoy it, I'd love to hear your thoughts in the review section! I've missed these characters so much!_


	2. Chapter 2

One week later, Mr. Lamonte visitd Sweeney Todd's barber shoppe again on his way home from his mistress' place. "Good evening," he greeted the ghostly man over the cheery ring of the bell.

"Ah, you're back."

"You're the best barber in the city."

"You're too kind," Mr. Todd said, wrapping him in an apron.

He thought of what Catharine and Mrs. Lovett had said about this man. He was despicable. Not only had he been a lifetime womanizer, but an abuser of women and animals with an ego bigger than his forehead. It glistened with sweat as Sweeney Todd brought the razor to his neck. He wanted to press harder, to spill his rubies on the floor.

No. He glided the razor up. He had promised that Mr. Lamonte would be brought to justice slowly. He shaved him, making small talk. "You have a wife. Any children?"

"Heavens no! I can't stand those cretins screaming and running around."

Catharine had said that Lamonte was the most selfish man in the world, unwilling to share his life with anyone. Sweeney Todd could hear it in his voice when he talked about children. Todd couldn't believe his cold tone. Having Johanna, though his time with her had been brief, was the best thing to have ever happened to him. Those were the happiest days in his memory.

"Perhaps one day you'll change your mind," Mr. Todd said.

"Doubt it. I'll only have children if I can get a raise from the press and if I find the right woman. The angel you told me about."

The razor hovered over his jugular again. Mr. Todd forced himself to continue.

"You said you'd been traveling. Tell me, barber, are there any angels in London? Or must I go abroad for my dream woman?"

His hand twitched, but he kept himself from pricking Mr. Lamonte. "I found mine here in London, though I highly doubt there's any left here."

"I have grown weary of London. Perhaps I should travel."

Mr. Todd handed him a towel. He only had a few seconds to act. He grabbed the tea pot while Mr. Lamonte was busy. He aimed at the base of the back of his skull and hit him.

Mr. Lamonte slumped over in the chair, out cold. Mr. Todd stood beside him, grabbed his arm and pulled him up. He was heavier than Sweeney had thought. He carried Mr. Lamonte down the internal stairs to the bake house where he would stay for the rest of his miserable life.

When he ascended the steps, he came face to face with the infernal baker.

"What is it?"

"You got him?"

Sweeney Todd rolled his eyes. "Yes."

Catharine peered around the doorway. "I want to see him," she said in her soft voice.

"There's nothing to see," he grunted, walking away.

"Please?"

Her quiet request stopped him in his tracks. He turned to her, sneering. Why was he even going along with this silly little girl's plan anyway? Who was she to tell him when to kill or how?

Still... Looking at her pale face, the dark circles under her eyes, how every bone was visible on her small, thin frame.

"Fine. Come on." The barber turned around and went back down to the bake house with the ladies in tow.

Catharine stopped in the doorway upon seeing Mr. Lamonte chained by his wrists to the ceiling. His body was limp, his long stringy hair hanging in his face. Sweeney Todd had relieved him of his shirt, his hard chest already glistening with sweat from the heat of the fire. Her hazel eyes roamed every inch of his body.

"He's not going to hurt you. He's out cold," Mr. Todd said.

Catherine stepped forward slowly, as if being pushed by an invisible hand. Her eyes grew wider with every step. It was as if the monster from her wildest childhood dreams was suddenly in front of her, grotesque, vivid and all too real. She was terrified of the unconscious man.

When she was inches away, she poked his shoulder. No response, yet she pulled her hand away as if his skin had burned her. She rapped her knuckles on his skull. He didn't budge.

She gently pulled his hair aside and looked at his face. Her lips parted as she studied his strong facial features, his soft lips. She knew that behind those eyelids were a swirling vortex of blue and green surrounding a pitch black portal to what little was left of his soul.

Catharine's head was spinning. She could hear her own heartbeat, could hear Mr. Lamonte's voice echoing. She felt fevered and faint, unable to breathe.

She didn't want him to have that effect on her, yet he could still get a reaction while being unconscious. She had to separate from him once and for all.

Catharine kissed his lips ever so gently and looked at his peaceful face one more time. She smirked, unable to even chuckle. "It's funny. Like this, I could almost believe you're innocent."

She stood up and swallowed hard. Her eyes burned with unshed tears. "When does it start?" she asked Mr. Todd.

"Tomorrow, if you want," he mumbled.

"Good. I'll be here." Catharine held her breath and walked out of the bake house.


End file.
